The soft knock on the window stirred Zehron from his slumber. He sensed it immediately. His heart leaped, and in an instant, he jolted up from his bed. With hurried steps, he reached the window, unlocking and pushing it open.
A flurry of wings swept past him as the birds swarmed into his room, their small bodies glowing faintly in the dim morning light. Lastly, Liri darted in and clung to his chest, letting out a delighted chirp.
Zehron let out a soft chuckle, his fingers instinctively stroking Liri's tiny head. Then, just as he was about to greet his companions, something caught his eye—a rolled-up paper, tied securely to one of the bird's legs.
His breath hitched. Without hesitation, he untied it, his fingers slightly trembling as he unrolled the parchment.
Elvienne's handwriting.
His eyes scanned the letter hungrily.
She greeted him with love, her words carrying the warmth of her heart despite the ink. She assured him she was safe but missed him terribly. She wrote about how she never expected her father to be so strongly opposed to their love—simply because of their difference in rank.
And at the very end, three words stood out the most.
"I love you."
His grip on the letter tightened slightly as his gaze fell upon the faint, dried stains on the paper. Tears.
Zehron's chest ached. A deep, unfamiliar pain spread through him, his heart throbbing in a way he had never experienced before. The weight of it was unbearable.
He dropped his head onto his knees, his hands gripping his hair as if shielding himself from the heartbreak.
The energy he emanated made the air and wind somehow disturbed around him.
The birds cooed softly, their once lively chirps now filled with quiet sorrow. Liri pressed itself against his chest, its warmth offering silent comfort. They could feel it—his pain, his longing, his heartbreak.
Zehron stared at the letter in his hands for a long time. The dried tear stains, the shaky handwriting—he could feel her pain in every word. His fingers tightened around the edges, his chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths.
He didn't know what this feeling was. A heaviness, an ache deep in his ribs, something unfamiliar yet suffocating.
After a long silence, he reached for a parchment. He didn't overthink. He just wrote.
"Vienne,
I will find a way—a way for us to be together, to live without fear, to do all the things that make you smile.
Until then, take care of yourself.
That is all I ask.
— Zehron"
A single drop of ink bled into the parchment as he paused, staring at the words. It wasn't enough. Nothing could be enough. But it was all he could say.
He rolled the letter, tied it, and placed it in Liri's tiny claws. The fivri looked at him, tilting its head, as if sensing the storm raging inside him.
"Go." His voice was quiet, almost breathless.
Liri and the birds took off into the sky, disappearing into the dawn.
Zehron stood there for a long time, staring at the empty window, his hands clenched into fists. The ache didn't fade. It only settled deeper, carving itself into his bones.
.
.
The next morning, Zehron woke as usual, his body instinctively moving through the motions of his routine. But today was different. Today, he wouldn't be meeting her beneath the Lanara tree.
As he washed his face, the cold water did little to ease the weight in his chest. He leaned against the wooden basin, staring at his reflection in the dim morning light. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the moments they had shared—the way her fingers laced so effortlessly with his, the way her laughter had a way of unraveling the tension in his chest. The way her eyes held something so inexplicably familiar, as if he had known her long before their first meeting.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. The Everveil Tree. The old legend spoke of two lovers who defied fate, who crossed impossible odds to be together. He had always dismissed such tales as nothing more than stories. But now… he couldn't shake the thought that their fates might not be so different.
His hands curled into fists. He hated this feeling of helplessness. He had always accepted his place in society, content with working hard and living simply. But now, that was no longer enough.
He wanted to stand beside her, not as a burden but as someone worthy of her love. He didn't want her to simply manage with him—he wanted to build something for her, something better. If wealth and status were what stood between them, then he would find a way to rise.
He pulled on his shirt, adjusting the fabric over his shoulder as his birthmark briefly caught his eye in the mirror. A reminder.
I will not let fate decide for me.
With renewed resolve, he left the house.
As Zehron walked toward the docks, lost in his thoughts, a sudden bark broke through the morning air.
A large dog came bounding toward him, tail wagging wildly, eyes bright with excitement. Before he could react, the animal leaped at him, paws pressing against his chest, nearly knocking him off balance. The dog whined happily, nuzzling against him, its body shaking with pure joy.
Zehron let out a small, amused breath. He wasn't surprised. This happened often. Sometimes it was butterflies landing on his shoulders, sometimes birds following him for no reason, sometimes stray cats curling up at his feet. Animals were drawn to him in ways he never fully understood.
He crouched down, running his fingers through the dog's thick fur, offering slow, calming pats. "You're quite the energetic one, huh?" he murmured.
Just then, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Hey! Hands off!"
Zehron looked up to see a guard approaching, his expression stern. "That's the esteemed lady's pet. You shouldn't be touching it so casually."
Zehron's hand stilled for a moment before he withdrew it. The dog, however, let out a small whine, nudging against his leg as if protesting the separation.
He stood up, dusting off his clothes, his usual calm expression unshaken. "Didn't seem to mind me touching him," he said simply.
The guard frowned, glancing between Zehron and the dog, who was still wagging its tail at the dockworker. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face before he straightened his posture, clearing his throat.
"Just… be mindful," the guard muttered before stepping away.
Zehron watched him go, then looked back down at the dog. "Seems like you belong to someone important," he mused, giving it one last pat before turning toward the docks.
The dog watched him leave, ears perked, as if debating whether to follow.
As Zehron continued walking toward the docks, the rhythmic sound of paws followed closely behind him. He sighed, glancing over his shoulder.
"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" he murmured.
The dog barked happily in response, tail wagging as it trotted beside him like a loyal companion.
The guard groaned in frustration, chasing after the animal. "Oi! Get back here, you little menace!" He lunged, arms outstretched, but the dog effortlessly dodged, dashing around him in circles before sprinting straight back to Zehron's side.
"Stay still, you stubborn mutt!" Another guard joined in, attempting to corner the animal, but the dog leaped away just in time, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
Zehron watched, bemused, as the scene unfolded. He had seen children cause less trouble than this.
The commotion soon drew a small crowd of workers and passersby, their curious murmurs mixing with the frustrated shouts of the guards. But the chase came to a sudden halt when a new presence entered the scene.
A woman stepped forward, her regal posture and composed demeanor commanding attention.
Aythea.
The Landari clan's heir.
She was dressed in elegant yet practical attire, her sharp eyes scanning the situation with a mixture of authority and mild exasperation.
"Enough," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Come here."
The dog paused mid-step, ears flicking toward her.
For a moment, it seemed like he would listen.
But then—
He bolted.
Straight to Zehron.
Zehron barely had time to react before the dog leaped into his arms, nearly knocking him over. He stumbled back a step, quickly securing his grip around the squirming animal.
The crowd held their breath.
The guards stared in disbelief.
Aythea blinked.
The dog—who had just ignored his own owner's command—was now curled comfortably in Zehron's arms, letting out a contented sigh.
Zehron sighed too, shaking his head. "You're a real troublemaker, huh?"
He gave the dog a few gentle pats, his touch firm yet soothing. "That's enough mischief for today. Don't cause trouble for the lady," he murmured.
The dog huffed but nuzzled into his chest, clearly enjoying the affection.
Then, as if he had been the most obedient pet all along, he allowed Zehron to hand him over to Aythea without protest.
She took him hesitantly, her fingers brushing against Zehron's as she did.
Both of their eyes,now locked, the wind rustled through the trees, making the leaves sway as if they were celebrating this moment. A gentle breeze rolled in, playing with her hair, lifting the strands and sending them drifting toward him. They brushed softly against his face, carrying the delicate scent of her—something sweet, something familiar. For a second, he closed his eyes, breathing it in, feeling as if even the wind had brought them closer.
Her gaze lingered on him, studying him in quiet surprise.
"...Strange," she mused, tilting her head slightly.
Zehron raised an eyebrow. "What is?"
"Have we met before?"
"I don't think we did, my esteemed lady" says Zehron.
Aythea's lips parted as if she was about to speak, but she hesitated. She glanced down at her dog, who was now resting peacefully in her arms—something he never did with anyone but her.
And yet, with this man…
She looked back at Zehron.
"What did you do to my dog, for him to stubbornly cling to you?"
" What could i possibly do, my lady?"
Zehron only shrugged. " It's just, your pet, he must be really friendly."
Aythea, without anymore of wasting time
"...I see."
With that, she turned, her dog still nestled calmly in her arms. The guards, still speechless, quickly scrambled to follow her.
Zehron exhaled, shaking his head as he walked away.
That was… unexpected.
But at least now, he could finally start his work.